


I Lost My Cherry to a Flyboy: Volume 2

by Anonymous



Series: Poe Dameron: Purple Prose Connoisseur [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bondage, Busybodies, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drinking, Dumb stormtrooper ideas about sex, Miscommunication, Multi, Poe's bad taste in porn, Sex Pollen, Too Kinky to Torture, Virginity Kink, machismo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6166822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most First Order officers would have killed themselves rather than live with the shame. Finn is determined to rebuild Poe's confidence before he ends up the same way. He has a cunning plan that cannot fail!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The gag tasted of rubber. Finn tried to wipe the taste off on the roof of his mouth; drool trickled from the corner of his lips, making the gag slimy. Ew. It felt strange being held open like this. He’d always managed to avoid the attention of the officers back in the First Order—at least the officers who liked that kind of thing.

Across the room, Poe’s eyes showed white all the way around the iris. Finn glanced down. Poe’s erection tented his pants. That would be the two drinks their captors had forced down his throat. What was the drug? What was the dosage? Finn struggled to keep his breathing even.

Poe was still on his feet; it couldn’t be _too_ bad, could it? Some aphrodisiacs were deadly in high concentrations. Many drugs interacted negatively with alcohol. Finn struggled to remember his training, but Poe’s symptoms could have been anything. _Please let him be all right,_ Finn thought. He’d always figured he’d end up on his knees for somebody eventually. He hadn’t imagined it would be Poe.

“I fly things,” Poe said. “I’m a pilot.”

This was bad. Poe’s speech was slurred: A gruesome parade of stroke victims and chemically induced brain damage played out behind Finn’s eyes. The First Order preferred good marksmanship to everything else, but it wasn’t above assassination. He’d had the classes.

“I like my whores younger. And female.” Poe swayed on his feet.

Finn could hear the undercurrent of stress under the cocky words. He was going to do something stupid and noble. He understood what was going to happen. Of course he did. That was a stupid thought. Poe must have been with lots of people. Interpersonal relations weren’t restricted in the Resistance. Most places, really, Finn was finding. So Poe was going to do something stupid and they were going to die. Finn tried to catch his eye, but Poe was smirking at the leader of the gang.

Gang? Finn wasn’t sure. They weren’t weapons smugglers, no matter what Poe’s friend had said. At first, he had thought this was some kind of brothel, like the ones First Order officers sometimes frequented. Finn had stood guard a few times, pretending not to hear the noises or see the bruises on the hollow-eyed prostitutes afterwards. But there were no amenities here for guests, and the leader talked about “manufacturing”.

Next to Finn, one of the Gamorrean guards held an object. A camera, Finn realized. The group must be manufacturing holos. The rank and file of the First Order were discouraged from viewing such things, but they circulated in the barracks anyway. Finn had seen a couple. He understood how it was with officers, but the holos had given him visuals to accompany the sounds, and then he’d been transferred to trash duty, far away from anyone important enough to interfere with a trooper’s work schedule.

The leader was speaking: “With the amount of joy juice in your system, you’ll like anyone.”

Finn swallowed. The rubber taste was everywhere. _Joy juice_. He’d heard of it. It could be sprayed in an aerosol form to disorient troops, sending them into a violent sexual state. The leader was right: It wouldn’t need to be Jocelyn or one of Poe’s many other girlfriends. Anybody would do. That was what made the compound so effective as a weapon: it left its victims demoralized as well as injured. He’d heard stories about officers on all fours, begging to be used by their troops, officers who’d blown their own brains out after. Finn could see the horror in Poe’s face already.

Poe lurched across the room. “You ever suck a cock before?” he asked. He sounded scared.

“It’s okay,” Finn tried to say. He couldn’t talk around the gag; all he succeeded at doing was drooling on himself. He shook his head.

“Open wide.”

Poe unzipped his pants. His cock looked huge at eye-level like this. Finn tried to swallow, but his throat wouldn’t work right. He dribbled more spittle. At least the act wouldn’t be too damaging. The worst he’d get was a sore jaw, and Poe would enjoy it. That is, it would feel good to him physically. There was no telling what would happen when the joy juice wore off.

Poe grabbed Finn’s jaw. Finn gagged. Poe’s penis barely fit through the ring of the gag. It was thick. Unusually so, Finn thought, but maybe it just felt that way. He wasn’t an expert on other guys.

He’d known about gagging, about suggesting this instead of something worse if he ever got punished with a trip to officers’ quarters. He hadn’t known it would taste salty and musky or that he’d feel Poe’s heartbeat even through the rubber. He hadn’t known how Poe would catch his head and force him down until Poe’s cock scraped the back of his throat and his nose was pressed to Poe’s pubic hair. He hadn’t known how it would smell—like Poe sweaty and fresh from the base gym but with another layer of something deep and animal. It was dark and warm like this. Finn closed his eyes and tried to relax his throat. He tried not to think about his knees on the concrete floor or about the armed men surrounding them.

Poe gripped his head. Wrenched him back. Forced him down again.

Finn’s hands twisted in the cuffs. He’d have fallen without Poe’s grip on him. Poe was making these noises. Supposedly, joy juice felt amazing before you came down. Troopers used to whisper in the barracks about people who used it on purpose, people who didn’t care what happened as long as it felt good at the time. Poe was feeling good; Finn could tell from the sounds. Finn’s eyes watered. He could barely breath. He drooled helplessly around Poe’s penis—his cock. Finn’s knees hurt. He was getting an erection. Poe’s thumbs rubbed circles on his neck.

Poe’s hands tightened. His hips jerked. He was ejaculating.

Finn choked.

That was the floor under him. He kept his head down, wheezed. He couldn’t stop coughing. Poe’s leg trembled against his cheek. Finn had to think. They had to do something. If the gang was distracted… It was too late.

“You got a pussy for me to fuck next?” Poe asked. “Not that he isn’t a good little bitch, but he’s not really my type.”

He sounded cocky again. The drug had a fast onset, Finn remembered: by now, Poe was probably too affected to be afraid. But he should have been. The gang reminded Finn of officers, the worst of the officers. They were the ones you never wanted to be posted near. They knew what to do to leave a soldier physically intact but mentally crippled.

Finn watched helplessly as Poe mouthed off. Poe didn’t understand. He was _nice_ , like the rest of the pilots. The Resistance was nice, even the officers. Especially the officers. As far as Finn knew, Poe had never expected anyone to do things for him just because he was a top pilot. He didn’t call people to his quarters and demand that. His girlfriends were all like Jocelyn: dangerous, fun, maybe even friends. Finn had met a lot of them by now. Everywhere they went, Poe seemed to know people.

“I’m normal,” Poe yelled. He sounded terrified.

Finn couldn’t do anything. There were things that excited officers. _Those_ officers. Sex wasn’t enough: they wanted to send a trooper back, pale and shaking and jumping at loud noises. If you were good, you were too valuable, but there was always someone who was too slow, not useful enough. There were other officers who had favorites sometimes, men and women who got promoted fast. But this kind, they liked the troopers who were a little too proud, who thought it wouldn’t be them. And they liked being first.

“Get that camera over here! Don’t damage the merchandise! Humans like ‘em pretty.” The leader issued orders in Gamorrean.

Finn caught a few words: ‘turns’, ‘you first’, ‘hard’. “You sell this shit to humans?” he asked, disgusted. Even the worst of the officers hadn’t recorded it. At least, they hadn’t sold the recordings if they had. Or maybe Finn just didn’t know. He looked around. Nobody was watching him. Their attention was riveted on Poe.

They held him face down on the table. Finn could see him tense when they touched his ass. That was bad. If he would just lie there until they were done… But it was Poe, so he made it worse.

Finn should distract them. Poe was his friend and his superior officer and nice and he’d never once made anyone… It had probably never occurred to him to make anyone… When Finn had first woken up from his coma, Poe had been there every day, and sometimes there had been something in the way he laid his hand on Finn’s arm that made Finn wonder. But he’d never asked.

Finn should distract them, but everything Poe said made it worse, and no one was paying attention to Finn anyway. The first Gamorrean used Poe’s mouth. Finn was going to be sick. And then the second… Finn couldn’t watch this, but he couldn’t stop it either. Poe should never have admitted that he hadn’t done it before. He shouldn’t have struggled. He shouldn’t have begged.

So Finn did the only thing he could do and inched backwards into the darkness until Poe’s cries were muffled by distance and he could turn tail and run for the Portmaster’s office and the only backup that might get there in time.

—

They were too late. That was his first thought when they came through the door. He saw Poe instantly. He was suspended in a cube of translucent material, his arms hanging limply at his sides and stomach bloated horrifically. What had they done to him? His eyes stared vacantly. And Finn knew with a horrible, instant certainty that he was dead.

Poe blinked.

It was a tiny movement, but Finn could have cried. Instead, he shot the leader in the shoulder. Death was too good for him. Finn was going to let the Portmaster have him, and then he was going to wish Finn had shot him in the head.

Blaster fire sizzled past him, straight for— “Poe!”

The bolt of energy crackled over the cube. _No, no, no,_ Finn thought, but whatever the stuff was, it was impervious to blaster fire. Inside, Poe’s head lifted slightly. He smiled, and then the material was retreating, moving like it was alive. Finn caught Poe as he tumbled to the ground.

“I’m getting you out of here.”

“My hero.”

Poe was really out of it. Finn could barely keep him upright. They needed to leave. Poe needed to be somewhere else. He needed clothes. Soon, the drugs would wear off, and Finn wasn’t going to let that happen under the prying eyes of the Portmaster’s troops.

“Sorry about the stuff I said,” Poe mumbled into his shoulder. “Was trying to keep ‘em off of you.”

Finn clutched him tighter. He should have done something. He should have distracted them. Poe kept asking him if he was all right, if _they_ were all right, and all he could think about was the officers who blew their heads off… After.

He’d failed Poe once. He’d be there for him now, no matter what.

—

> “You wanted to see me, Sir?” A young hunk in a flight suit stepped into the office. He had dark skin and long, beautiful eyelashes. His flight suit was suspiciously tight and revealing.
> 
> “Son, you failed your last exam. You know I can’t keep you on if you can’t pull your weight.”
> 
> “Oh, no, Sir. Please! I can learn!”
> 
> The grizzled instructor scratched his chin. “I suppose we could arrange some _private lessons_.”
> 
> “I’ll do _anything_.” He swallowed. The camera zoomed in on his Adam’s apple.

Someone banged on the door. BB-8 zipped across the room to open it.

“Fuck.” Poe jabbed the off button. “BB-8!”

“Poe!” Finn spilled through the doorway. His chest heaved like he’d been running.

“Uh, hi, Finn.” Poe very determinedly looked at his face, not at the way the sweaty v of his shirt clung to his… 

“I looked for you in the mess, but they said you’d gone straight back to your quarters.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” Poe said defensively. A guy couldn’t get ten seconds of privacy these days, apparently.

“I haven’t seen you there all week,” Finn said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I could bring you something if you’re not feeling well.”

And that was the guilt back again. Finn really was perfect. It was torture. He should have been angry. He should have been traumatized. He should have done anything other than following Poe around trying to make sure he ate and slept and went to his mandatory counseling sessions. He was sweet and he was wonderful and he was _always there_.

“I’m fine,” Poe snapped. He winced. Had that come out as assholish as it was in his head? Probably.

“Are you sure you don’t want dinner? I could—“

“Sure. Fine. Okay. I’ll come to the mess.” He was _not_ going to let Finn bring dinner to his quarters. He was especially not going to share a meal with him in his quarters. Poe had already done enough to him without cornering him in some awkward private date. _Situation_. Situation, not _date_. “I need to clean up first,” Poe said hurriedly.

Finn smiled his dazzling smile at him and waited _right_ outside the refresher while Poe took a shower and told his dick it would have to wait till they were alone.

—

The mess hall was packed with people, all on their feet and jabbering excitedly. Poe rose onto his toes, peering around for the source of the commotion.

“Rey!” Finn bolted through the crowd.

Sure enough, she had returned. Poe watched as they ran to each other. Finn swept her into a hug.

Poe melted away into the crowd. He really hadn’t been hungry after all. Back in his quarters, he locked the door and gave BB-8 a strict lecture about opening it unasked. He turned off all of his coms. Nobody was going to bother him for the rest of the night. _Finally._

> ”I’ve never… you know…” The boy in the flight suit opened his eyes very wide. They were beautiful dark eyes ringed with thick lashes.
> 
> “First time for everything,” said the flight instructor. “On your knees, and no teeth or I’ll have to gag you.”

Poe’s cock gave a guilty twitch. He punched a button. The title screen for I Lost My Cherry to a Flyboy: Volume 2 popped up. The dark-skinned boy in the tacky flight suit clung to a muscular man, also wearing an improbable uniform. Poe went back to the menu. He picked something with a woman on the cover. She had blond ringlets and big blue eyes.

> ”I couldn’t! Not with a man I don’t love!”
> 
> A man loomed over her. His wild dark curls fell over his forehead as he bent to whisper lasciviously in her ear. “If not me, will be one of the others.” He gestured to the wicked thugs ringing the room.
> 
> The girl pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “You beast!”

Poe jabbed the menu button.

> ”Does it really hurt the first time?”

> ”Not like this!”

> ”I’m saving myself for—”

> ”But I’m a virg—”

Poe threw the tablet across the room. “I am never going to be able to jerk off again,” he said into his pillow. BB-8 made an enquiring noise.

—

“I see,” Rey was saying.

“Yes, and what’s more, he’s always looking at something on a tablet when I come in, but he always hides it.”

“Maybe he’s talking to someone after all.”

“Somebody else but not me?” Finn couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean it like that.” Rey patted his arm. “Maybe it’s a diary. Master Luke says some people find that helpful.”

Finn nodded. “I just wish I knew for sure. He’s acting so weird. He’s always trying to be alone.”

“Maybe that’s what he needs.”

“But what if…” He swallowed. “If he… did something, and I didn’t check on him in time…”

“Poe’s tough, right?” Rey put her arm around him. “You’re tough too.”

“I’m only an ordinary soldier. It’s different. Poe’s a _commander_. Things like that aren’t supposed to…” He hunched his shoulders. “I haven’t even seen him with Jessika Pava since then except when they’re on a mission.”

“The two of them are…?”

“I don’t know,” Finn said miserably. “I think so, maybe. _Before._ Normally, he has lots of girlfriends around. But since it happened, he’s just _alone_ all the time. I try to keep an eye on him, but… If I knew he was at least talking to _somebody_ , even if it’s not me…”

Rey patted him. “Well, there’s only one thing for it. We’ll have to see what’s on that tablet.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I was thinking… After you finish up here…”

Finn could hear Jessika Pava’s voice before he rounded the last corner to the hangar. It was late—the hangar mostly deserted at this hour—and she wasn’t trying to be quiet. She leaned over Poe where he crouched, checking the landing gear on his X-Wing. Her half-unzipped flight suit gaped open as she moved to show the tight, sweat-stained tank top underneath.

Poe didn’t look like he’d noticed. “Maybe another time,” he said. His shoulders were tense. His own tank, translucent with sweat did nothing to hide the knotted muscle. He flinched suddenly.

Finn realized he’d stepped wrong—made a noise. “Um, hi,” he said.

“Hi, Finn.” Poe whirled around. His voice oozed with false cheer.

It must hurt his face to smile like that. Finn was surprised nobody else could see it. Poe assured him that the mandatory counseling was going fine, but Finn knew the truth: the old Poe would never have turned down Jess. He never would have avoided Finn like this, or the mess hall, or dinner. He wouldn’t smile like this or stare at a point just over Finn’s shoulder while talking to him.

“I missed you at dinner,” Finn said. He didn’t say that he’d sent Rey to Poe’s quarters while he went to the hangar. That way, if it wasn’t a false alarm, if Poe had done something to himself, Finn wouldn’t be the one to find him. It was cowardly, but Rey hadn’t minded. She didn’t quite believe in Finn’s fears, but then, she hadn’t known Poe before, so his brooding and mysterious absences wouldn’t look so strange to her.

“Time got away from me, I guess.” Poe raked greasy fingers through his hair. “Pava, you should eat something too. Sorry we missed you earlier, Finn.” He ran all the words together into one as he brushed past.

Jessika shot Finn a strange look over her shoulder as Poe dragged her away. There had been a time when Poe had sought Finn out at every meal. Now, he ate alone when he ate at all. At least he would eat with Jessika tonight. It was progress. Finn would have to be satisfied with that.

—

“Oh my god, Dameron, are you trying to scare him off?” Jess shrugged free of his grip.

“Not much chance of that,” Poe said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. Finn was far enough behind that he probably couldn’t hear her. Probably. He had ears like a tooka, and he was always appearing around corners when Poe least expected him. It was enough to make a guy jumpy.

“Put him out of his misery already.”

He flinched at the phrasing. “I can’t do that.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why—“

“You know _exactly_ why.” The mess hall smelled fantastic. His stomach rumbled. He’d been hungry for hours, he realized, but the prospect of facing Finn’s nervous energy was too much. Not only could he not jerk off without feeling guilty, but now he couldn’t eat either. Maybe he should take Jess up on her offer, but somehow, he just wasn’t in the mood.

“Man, you _do_ have it bad.” Jess plonked a bowl of stew down on her tray. “No wonder you were so weird with Snap the other day.”

Poe buried his face in his hands. “I told him not to hit on me in front of Finn. God. We have no idea what stormtroopers think of—“

“I know _exactly_ what one particular ex-stormtrooper thinks about you because it’s written right there all over his face.”

“He had the weirdest expression when Snap—well, anyway…” Poe could picture it precisely: a flash of alarm sliding into guarded caution.

“You should talk to him.”

“Snap?”

“No, Finn, dumbass.” Jess flicked his ear. “Honestly, Dameron, I thought you were the one guy I could count on to be cheerfully slutty and not drag me into your relationship drama. _Just talk to him._ ”

“And say what? ‘I enjoyed myself: let’s do it again some time?’”

“He’s worried about you. It’s adorable.”

“He’s thinking about me so he doesn’t have to think about himself. You weren’t there, Jess.” He dropped into the seat next to her. Thankfully, there were few people in the mess at this hour, and the back corner was deserted. “As soon as he stops freaking out about me… I mean, if he ever found out…” He stared at his soup. It didn’t bear thinking about, which was why he’d thought about nothing else. What _would_ Finn say? They were still friends, after a fashion. Friends who no longer spent time together, but that was the best Poe could hope for. Something casual. With distance. Let Finn be disappointed that he needed space: it was better than any of the alternatives. Alternatives where he hated Poe, or worse, where he somehow blamed _himself_.

“You’d have liked it.”

Poe choked. A bit of potato lodged in his nose. _Ow._

“You would have,” Jess insisted.

“Finn is not _me_.”

“No, he’s actually mature and trying to talk to you about it.”

“Like you know about maturity, Pava.”

“You got me there, Boss.” Jessika grinned. “You sure you’re not up for some stress relief?”

“Nah. Not tonight. I really am tired.” Poe found himself smiling back. “But you buy me a drink at the shindig tomorrow night, and you might get lucky…”

Jessika snorted. “I always knew you were easy.”

—

Rey was waiting outside Finn’s quarters. “You found him, I assume.”

“Yeah.” He tapped the lock.

“And he was fine, just like always.” Her left eyebrow climbed in amusement. “Wasn’t he?”

“He was in the middle of turning down sex with Jessika Pava.”

She followed him inside. “Maybe he just didn’t feel like having sex with her.”

“He always did before. You should have seen them at my get well party. I think he forgot I was even there. I think he forgot anybody was.” Finn dropped onto the bed. His back twinged. The scar acted up whenever he got tense like this. “He was all over everybody before.”

Rey sat next to him. “Everybody such as you?” she asked.

“No, no. That’s different. It’s different with men.” Finn remembered the warmth of Poe’s arms around him. He had his arm around Snap and all of the other pilots as often. That was different from Jess. No kissing. No tongue. Except, the other day, Snap had leaned in, and the way Poe looked around, like he was afraid someone would see them, had made the back of Finn’s neck prickle.

“It doesn’t seem all that different to me: Some people can take what they want. The rest of us have to negotiate.”

Finn glanced at her. Rey’s eyes stared into the distance, somewhere beyond the far wall of his room—which wasn’t very far. “Did you ever have to?” he asked.

“No. I scavenged. It’s safer than prostitution. More lucrative too, in the long term.”

He nodded. The hollow feeling in his stomach went away a little. He didn’t like to think about Rey with the kinds of bruises he’d seen.

“But men or women: it’s not so different.”

Finn shrugged. “But with women, it’s not weird to—you know.”

Rey looked blank.

“I mean it’s okay if you let someone fuck you—even if you’re an officer. There weren’t a lot in the First Order, but Phasma used to sometimes pick a trooper, and nobody thought it was weird.”

She looked at him speculatively. “So, what, Poe hates you now because you had sex with him?”

“What?” He sat up, horrified.

Rey’s eyebrow was climbing again.

“No! Poe isn’t like that. He wouldn’t—I mean, I’m just a trooper. I mean a soldier. I mean… not an officer.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s normal if it’s a commanding officer. Not as bad anyway. Wasn’t it like that on Jakku?”

“I guess. I never really thought about it. We didn’t have a lot of people with military ranks. If you had money or you were mean, you got to do what you wanted. I suppose if someone took away Unkar Plutt’s money and made him perform oral sex, he’d be upset.” Rey’s face lit up like she found the prospect intriguing.

“You don’t really think that’s why Poe’s avoiding me? It would have been worse if I’d tried not to: Just look at what they did to him.”

Rey shrugged. “You’re the one who knows about this stuff. I just know it’s supposed to hurt, and nobody ever made it worth my while. Poe must like it if he does it so much though.”

The ceiling over his bed was the same featureless gray as the rest of the base. It didn’t have any answers. “He used to. I don’t think he has… since. He just keeps acting weirder and weirder.”

“Hiding tablets and jumping when you sneak up on him, yeah, I know,” Rey said.

“I don’t sneak up—“

“Speaking of which, the security here is terrible. These locks aren’t force-resistant at all.”

Finn looked over at her.

Rey grinned. “I had a look around while you were stalking him.” She held up a tablet.

Finn didn’t dignify that with a response. They’d both gotten the lecture from the med droids on mental health and spotting signs of depression in comrades who spent too much time alone. He wasn’t _stalking_ Poe. That would be weird.

“I found it stuffed behind the bed,” Rey continued, tapping the tablet on. “It’s all cracked. These things are sturdy. He must have dropped it pretty far.”

The screen brightened. They both leaned in. A rotating graphic read: ‘Continue? Yes/No’ Finn tapped ‘yes’. A holo started.

> ”You’ve been disrespecting me.” A burly figure in a khaki uniform pressed his forearm across a younger man’s throat.
> 
> The kid was up on his tiptoes against the wall of what looked like a spaceport hangar. “No, Sir,” the boy stammered. “No disrespect, Sir. Please, Sir… I’ve never… you know…”
> 
> “First time for everything,” said the older guy. “On your knees, and no teeth or I’ll have to gag you.”
> 
> The kid sank to his knees. His long eyelashes fluttered as he looked up at the camera. His dark skin gleamed under the lights—too many lights for a real hangar in the middle of the night.

“Hey, he looks like me,” Finn said.

In the holo, the older guy unzipped his pants. He had a large penis, even half flaccid. There was no foreskin, Finn noticed. The kid started sucking it.

Rey wrinkled her nose. “That can’t be hygienic.”

“I don’t know. Troopers said it was better than the alternative.”

The holo showed a closeup of the kid’s throat swallowing. The older guy pulled out. A string of semen and saliva glistened on the kid’s chin.

“Yech!” Rey made a face.

“It doesn’t taste that bad,” Finn said. “At least, Poe’s didn’t.”

Rey looked dubious. “What _is_ this, anyway?” She poked at the tablet. “‘I Lost My Cherry to a Flyboy: Volume 2’?”

“Pornography, I guess.” On the screen, the old guy was jerking the kid off and giving him a lecture about chain of command.

“What’s a cherry?”

“Virginity. It means he lost his virginity with a pilot.” Finn frowned at the screen. “But they both look like pilots. I guess it means that one.” He pointed to the kid.

Rey frowned. “This is volume two. How did he lose it twice?”

They watched the holo for a while. The older guy shoved the kid face first onto a stack of crates and began yanking off his flight suit.

“He does look a lot like you,” Rey said.

> “No, please, Sir. I did what you asked!”
> 
> “Spread and shut up, Corporal—that’s an order.” He tried to get a hand in the kid’s close-cropped hair but had to settle for hauling him back by his shoulder. “I’m going to show you what a real man looks like.”
> 
> The kid spread as best he could with the flight suit trapping his legs. “It won’t fit. Please!”
> 
> The older guy moved his hand to the kid’s hip. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even be able to get it up for a woman, let alone talk to the Admiral’s daughter.” He wrapped the other hand around his own cock and positioned himself.
> 
> “Ow. Oh God!”
> 
> The older man rolled his hips with an obscene squelch.
> 
> The tone of the kid’s cries changed abruptly. “Oh God! Oh mercy! Oh, _Sarge_.”

“It doesn’t look like it hurts,” Rey said. The squelching noises continued.

> The kid’s blissed out face filled the camera. “Harder! Yes! Baby! Ruin me with your cock!”

“I guess some people like it,” Finn said.

“Do you?” Rey asked.

Finn looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was still glued to the holo. “I never actually… I mean, in the First Order, it only happened if you screwed up. I think it’s different here.”

“Not that different. The sergeant is punishing the corporal for flirting with the Admiral’s daughter.” Rey drummed her fingers on the bed.

“Those guys can’t be Resistance. The ranks are all wrong, and our flight suits aren’t that tight.”

“Well, there must be _some_ reason Poe has this.”

“I guess… he masturbates to it. That’s what people do with pornography,” Finn said. His cheeks were warm. He was glad Rey was still looking at the screen and not at him. The idea of Poe masturbating was a new one. He had all those girlfriends.

“Maybe that’s his problem.” Rey pointed to the actors.

“Masturbation?”

“No, what that one said: he can’t get an erection around women anymore.”

Huh. “Do you think… could that really happen?”

“You’re the one with a penis.”

He thought about it. “I don’t really… I mean… In the First Order, people were always around. Sometimes, you took care of things in the middle of a sleep shift and everybody pretended not to notice, but I got used to not thinking about it most of the time, you know?”

“So you don’t get erections around people?” Rey sounded intrigued, like she was asking about mods on an engine.

“No? Well… maybe. Kind of. When the thing happened. With Poe…” Finn trailed off awkwardly.

The holo was finishing up with loud music and some text playing over the actors making out on the crates. Rey finally looked away from the screen. “Why would Poe masturbate to this specifically?”

“I don’t know.” He was blushing again. “The older guy doesn’t look anything like him,” he protested weakly. It was pretty obvious what Rey was getting at.

Rey sucked on her lip. “Well, let’s see if he has any more pornography.”

Poe did. Lots and lots of it. It was the only thing on the tablet. There were holos of drill sergeants in various militaries disciplining cadets and gamblers forced into prostitution to pay their debts and politicians being blackmailed into bending over their own office desks while they cried and whimpered about losing their manhood. There was also a weird book with a Hutt on the cover.

“This one has a girl,” Rey said.

“Whoa.” Finn stared. “Do you think that’s what Poe does with Jessika Pava.” He couldn’t imagine her putting up with being chained to a bedpost like that. Plus Jess yelled a lot; the girl in the holo was mostly cowering and whimpering. She was also a virgin.

“I don’t see how anyone has sex more than once if they all get ‘ruined’,” Rey said, wrinkling her nose again. The dialogue in the holo was surprisingly similar to I Lost My Cherry to a Flyboy: Volume 2.

“Maybe she can’t do it with anyone but wicked uncle whatshisname now,” Finn said.

“Weird,” Rey said and tapped on another holo. It started in the middle.

> ”A real man would never just roll over and take it.” A man in a black military uniform loomed over one of his comrades. Other soldiers pinned the second man to his chair.
> 
> “I didn’t want to! They made me!”
> 
> The first man sneered. “They made you into a filthy little cocksucker, that’s what, and the rest of us have been getting mighty lonely on this outpost.”

Rey snapped her fingers. “That’s it.”

“What?” Finn looked away from the holo. _This_ actor actually did look a lot like Poe. Uncomfortably like him now that he was all roughed up and crying. The outpost in the holo held at least a dozen guys, and they must have all been _really_ lonely.

“Poe’s not a real man anymore.”

Rey grabbed his sleeve before he could object.

“No, don’t interrupt; I’m not insulting him. Look at the men in these holos!”

He realized. “They all get fucked.”

“And then they’re never the same. They’re too scared to ask women to have sex with them or whatever, and everybody thinks they’re weak and takes advantage of them. It’s just like Jakku: anybody who looked weak once was finished.”

Finn swallowed. “Poor Poe.”

“No, but we can fix this. We just need to convince him he’s the other guy. The sergeant. He likes that one. It’s his all-time top-viewed holo.”

Finn gaped at her.

“It’s okay, isn’t it? You said it’s okay if it’s a superior officer and a subordinate. And you’re the one who’s so worried about him.”

“I don’t see any admirals’ daughters around, do you?” The joke fell flat. Finn tried to picture Poe as the aggressive sergeant. “I don’t think he’d punish someone like that for real anyway.”

“Hmm… no, the corporal fights him too much. We need something extremely nonthreatening.” Rey paged through the listings of holos. “What about this one?”

The cover art showed a muscular guy passed out on a bar table, with his shirt riding up to reveal perfectly-defined abs. “Too Drunk to Resist,” Finn read. “Yeah, I could probably do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to have the first of Finn (and Rey)'s brilliant ideas, but I've only made it to them formulating said idea. Oops. They'll inflict it on Poe next time, never you fear.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the best of nights, it was the worst of nights. It was a night when the pilots let it all hang loose. It was a night when Poe…

“Oh my god, he’s _adorable_.” Jess’s voice interrupted his train of thought.

Poe winced. His evening of no-strings-attached booty call with Pava had turned into drunken bonding hour where Jess plied him with beers and asked about his feelings. In between ogling the other pilots and speculating about their sex lives, of course. Right now, she was ogling Finn where he stood with the pilots crowding the bar.

“Lighten up, Dameron: at this point, your boyfriend can’t hear the guy next to him, let alone little old me.” Jess wiped her forehead. “Oh my god, it’s vile in here. Hoth is going to start looking good if they don’t get the air conditioners going again.”

Across the room, Finn swayed into one of the pilots. Poe could hear his laugh ring out, cutting through the sounds of the party, like Poe was a radio tuned to that frequency. “He’s not my boyfriend, Pava.”

Jess took a swig of beer. “Not if you don’t make a move before she does.” She waved towards the group at the bar.

Rey. No last name, just like Finn. Young and beautiful, also like Finn. Poe hadn’t spotted her earlier, but here she was, suddenly appearing from behind the guy Finn had stumbled into, one of the new recruits. The guy was a great pilot. Also a creep. Poe watched her elbow him aside. She caught Finn’s arm and steered him away from the crowd. They’d be good together, Poe thought. Sweet. It was inevitable. And a good thing about which he was very pleased. Finn deserved to be happy.

Jess poked his cheek with an unsteady index finger. “You look like someone died.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you too.” He plastered on something approximating a smile as Finn wobbled over to their table. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hey.” Finn’s eyes had the glassy look of the well and truly pickled. He swayed. His pink lips parted just a little, and Poe caught the flash of his tongue as he moistened them, but Finn didn’t speak. He looked at Jess, then back to Poe. The moment stretched.

“Hi Poe,” Rey said brightly. She shoved a chair into the back of Finn’s knees, dropping him into it.

“Uh, hi.” He shook himself mentally. “How are you kids enjoying your first proper pilots’ party?”

“It’s nice,” Finn said. He looked at his glass, empty except for the syrupy dregs of something blue. “Nice…”

Poe detected the unmistakable smell of a Pantoran Nosebleed. Fucking hell. Poe had learned his lesson about _those_ a decade ago, when his stomach lining and imperviousness to hangovers had both been stronger.

Rey sipped something in a tumblr. It was a bright neon yellow topped by a layer of pale yellow foam. “Everyone keeps buying us drinks,” she said.

Poe raised his eyebrows. Finn swayed towards him; he radiated heat all along Poe’s side. Poe kept his eyes on Rey. “Might want to take it easy,” he said. “Some of the cocktails really pack a punch.”

“They’re all so friendly,” Rey said. “It would be rude to refuse a gift.”

Jess snorted. “Who bought you the Nosebleed?”

“Dav— Um…” Rey frowned. “Dav something. The new pilot.”

Poe felt Finn’s breath, hot and moist against his neck. “He’s nice,” Finn mumbled.

Poe tensed. Davat Dewan was a number of things, but nice wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t the kind of guy Poe would have willingly recruited—not in peacetime. Now, with their ranks thinned and so many experienced pilots gone, he’d take who he could get, even if it meant first enduring some of the galaxy’s worst pickup lines and then constant attempts at oneupmanship. It wasn’t an issue: Davat wasn’t _that_ good a pilot. And Poe didn’t need to like the guy to fly with him. He just needed to trust him in the air. Which he did. Good pilot. Committed to the Resistance. All of that good stuff.

“He said the next round was on him too,” Rey said. She clutched the edge of the table as she leaned forward, like it was the only thing anchoring her in place.

In the air, no problem. On the ground, Poe trusted Davat about as much as he trusted anybody’s judgment after a Pantoran Nosebleed. “How many have you had?” he asked.

“I’m not sure…” Rey’s eyes were wide and innocent as a child’s. “I didn’t think to keep count. Is one supposed to?”

Jess made a choking noise. Poe looked at her, but she waved him away. “Just went down the wrong tube, Boss.”

Poe grimaced. He turned back to Rey. “It’s a good idea, yeah. Especially if you don’t drink often.”

Rey nodded very earnestly. “Okay, we can ask Davat how many we’ve had.”

“Uh, well…” 

Jess interrupted. “It’s cool,” she said. “Why don’t you hang with me for a bit. And Poe can drag Finn to bed before he passes out.”

A spark shot up his spine. _Wrong phrasing, Jess._ But she’d probably meant it that way: Finn was draped over his side in a way that normally signaled a very pleasant, mutually-gratifying evening ahead. Finn snuffled against Poe’s neck. He was already half asleep. He’d have a brutal hangover in the morning—or else he was like Poe and he’d spend his twenties abusing his body and getting off scot-free. Poe missed his twenties. Sometimes, right now for example, he felt ancient. And yet his body was singing everywhere he felt skin on skin. If only he could convince his dick that he wasn’t going to get laid tonight.

“Uh, yeah,” Poe said. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you home.”

—

Finn sank into the bed. It felt like being swallowed by a cloud. Or was that the alcohol? He’d lost track after the third drink Rey had handed him. She was right, though: it was much easier to go over and talk to Poe after. _Walking,_ now that was tricky, but Poe had helped him all the way back to his quarters. Finn’s quarters. That wasn’t the plan. Finn had messed up somewhere.

“I’m going to get you some water, okay, Buddy?”

Finn hummed. He was so sleepy, and he felt so nice. He closed his eyes just for a minute.

He heard water in the basin, footsteps back across the room. “Finn?”

A cup clinked on the shelf next to the bed. Finn ought to open his eyes, say thank you. Or maybe he was supposed to _not_ open his eyes? The plan seemed very far away. He fell asleep to the feeling of Poe’s fingers stroking through his hair.

Rey turned up in the morning as he was examining himself in the mirror.

“How did it go?” She asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“He gave me a lecture on hangovers and tucked me in.” Finn gave up on the mirror. There weren’t any new marks that he could see.

“Jessika Pava likes the plan, by the way.”

“You told her?”

“She wanted to know why I was pretending to be drunk.” Rey shook her head, smiling. “She’s really smart!”

Rey had told her everything. All about how Poe wasn’t himself and about the tablet and Finn’s fears. His skin felt hot. Jess was Poe’s friend but also his subordinate. Would he want her to know all the details of what happened? He rubbed his temples as Rey talked. This must be the hangover Poe had warned him about.

“She said we’re right, you know: She can’t help Poe with what’s bothering him. _Only you_ can help him.”

It sounded like a quote.

“So then I showed her the tablet, but she said she didn’t think _Too Drunk to Resist_ was going to work on Poe. She said we need to ‘tip his hand’, whatever that means.”

“Great, how do we do that?” he said, grumpily. The light was too bright this morning.

“Well… we watched a bunch of the holos together, and she suggested this one.” Rey thrust the tablet at him.

“Roofied and Used” Finn read. “What’s a roofie?”

—

The pills were little, yellow, and according to Jess, provided an amazing euphoric high. “They’ll also make you suggestible as fuck, so take along your wingwoman here to fend off the creepos,” Jess had lectured him. That was a week ago. A week full of embarrassing high fives in the corridors from Jess and of Poe being busy with official meetings and paperwork. Finn had barely laid eyes on him until the ship. There was no one he’d rather have along on a mission, besides Rey. Rey was great. He could see her off in a corner of the nightclub, looming over a table of creepos, species unknown. Unknown to Finn anyway. Their three sets of eyes glittered in every color like a prism. They were pretty. He’d been happy talking to them. “Definitely creepos,” Rey had hissed in his ear before steering him back to Poe Dameron, Best Pilot in the Resistance, not that Finn could say that when they were _undercover_ and _collecting information_ , even if the mission had technically ended this morning and they were now ‘seeing the sights’. Poe Dameron, Best Pilot in the Resistance and amazing chooser of nightclubs. He smelled like weird cologne from the bazar, but the crease where his neck met his shoulder smelled like sweat.

“You okay there, buddy?” Poe asked. His hands pushed on Finn’s chest until they were face to face.

Finn smiled at him. Poe’s hair curled twice as crazily as usual. It must be the humidity. The club’s air circulation system couldn’t keep up with all of the bodies in here, sweating and swaying together. It was a nice, human smell. Well, some of it wasn’t human, but Poe smelled amazing.

“Whoa there.”

Hands prevented him from burying his face in Poe’s neck again.

“What’s gotten into you?” Poe asked.

Finn smiled. His face felt weird, like it wasn’t quite obeying him. “You’re amazing,” he said.

“Finn, what have you had to drink?”

“Dunno.” He collapsed around Poe. He was so warm and just the right height for Finn to wrap his arms around him and lay his head on his shoulder.

“Rey, what the hell has he been drinking?”

“Just that thing,” Rey’s voice said from his elbow a long way away.

“Hi, Rey,” Finn said happily.

—

Shit. Shit. _Shit._ Poe stumbled through the door of his hotel room, Finn clinging to him like an amorous crustacean. Poe pried his fingers loose one at a time and shoved him back. Too hard. Finn sprawled across the bed. His shirt rode up. This was the first time Poe had seen him in civilian clothes: a crimson shirt made of something soft and luxurious to the touch and pants that had to be cutting off circulation. They’d certainly cut off circulation to Poe’s brain, or he’d never have let Finn in here. But, then again, leaving him with Rey wasn’t an option either. She didn’t have any experience dealing with stoned friends. She just looked confused when he tried to explain about the drink. She could say it came straight from the bartender as much as she wanted, but Poe knew what drugging looked like, and Finn was exactly the kind of sweet, tender morsel to make a nightclub full of scum lick their chops.

Finn ran his hands over his chest, obviously fascinated by the fabric. He left streaks where his fingers disturbed the nap. Poe’s hands itched to smooth them out. How could he have missed the roofies? He’d been watching Finn like a hawk all evening, and he’d had his eye on that table of Rajlai. He could have sworn they’d never gone near the drink. Tipped the bartender to do it, maybe? He should have been watching for that too. He watched Finn run his hands over the leather of his pants. He was visibly hard, half hard anyway. In pants that tight, you could tell.

Poe fled to the fresher. They were here, that was what was important. Finn was safe. He could sleep it off without anyone bothering him. Poe could just… sleep. In a chair. And try not to look. His face in the mirror had dark circles under the eyes. In the background, Finn ran his hand over his crotch, mumbling. Poe dropped his eyes to the sink. Glass of water. That’s what he needed. Dehydration was the biggest threat to Finn now.

“Hey.” He put a hand under his head. “Try to drink something, okay?”

Finn’s fingers played over the sensitive skin at Poe’s wrist, but he drank.

“Try to get some sleep, okay?”

Finn smiled at him, teeth very white and even, and then his hands were back on those absurd pants, pulling at the fly. He peeled them down, and Poe had his answer about whether they could possibly have been concealing underwear. They weren’t.

“Uh.”

“Off,” Finn mumbled. He yanked at the pants uncoordinatedly.

Poe swallowed. The leather clung to Finn’s legs, moulded to his muscular thighs.

“Uh, I’ve got you.” He gingerly peeled the pants off. Finn’s cock was _right there_ , and he was hard. Poe tried to keep his eyes on his knee or his foot or some unsexy body part. (Even Finn’s knees were sexy. Poe was going to have to go drown himself in the fresher.)

The shirt came off easily, the slippery-soft material slithering over Finn’s chest, leaving him bare and sweaty, his nipples tight and peaked. From arousal? From sudden cold? From the friction of the material? Poe wasn’t sure, and looking at his face was no better: his dreamy smile and half-closed eyes promised an evening Poe would remember… and one Finn himself probably wouldn’t.

“Get some sleep.”

“Not sleepy.”

“I know, buddy, I know. I— Oh!” He choked off the noise. Finn had gotten hold of his hand again. His thumb rubbed circles over Poe’s knuckles.

“’S’okay,” Finn mumbled. “Safe. You’re safe with me.”

Poe crouched by the bed, paralyzed. Nothing about this was the least bit safe. Too many nights of bad decisions came back to him clearly, the languid feeling of melting into the bed, that boneless stage of severe inebriation just before falling asleep when his skin was at its most sensitive and everything felt good as long as the other person did all the work. The only thing more amazing than falling asleep mid-fuck was waking up to somebody moving in him, on him. He used to film it, just plant a camera in the room. They didn’t know. They wouldn’t care if they did, those one night stands from a lifetime ago. This was his punishment: dying of blue balls while Finn played with his hand and passed out on him. It wouldn’t be right to picture Finn like that, even if his skin was soft, and he was smiling like that, and he’d never know the difference.

Finn’s grip relaxed. He let out an adorable little snore.

The fresher door banged behind Poe. Louder than he’d meant. He poked his head back out: Finn was still passed out on the bed, all those acres of soft skin and the slight pink tinge of his cock where it still curved towards his belly. _Fuck._

The water scalded him. Cold was pointless. It wouldn’t fix this. Nothing was going to fix this. God, the things he could do if he chose, and Finn would never even _know_. Poe’s cock was red and pulsing in his hand.

Finn would be so tight and hot—and wet once Poe got him ready. Wet like a waterfall. He’d have to use tons of lube: Finn would be just that tight. Maybe he’d put a towel down first, and maybe Finn would wake up in the middle, despite the booze and whatever some monster had slipped in his drink. Poe could have slipped him something himself a thousand times. The First Order might be bastards, but Finn was this open, trusting kid, and he never watched himself around Poe. No defensive instincts at all. He’d wake up with Poe buried inside of him and that confused, wide-eyed look he sometimes got, and Poe would put his hand over his mouth and tell him it was all right and he had to be quiet, and he’d do it because he always listened to Poe because he _trusted_ him.

Once Poe was done, he’d spread Finn open, stick his fingers in him to feel the lube and come sloshing around, watch it dribble down his ass. He’d have to clean him up after, wipe him down and get rid of the towel. In the morning, they’d go downstairs for a bowl of that shitty porridge the hotel called breakfast, and Finn would sit across from him, wincing a little, sore in a way he didn’t understand, but then he’d smile at Poe with that sweet, trusting look, and Poe would get hard under the table and plan how soon he could do it again.

Poe came all over the wall of the fresher. He slept in there too and woke up with a crick in his neck.


End file.
